5/29

Looking how it's getting funny, as I stand by the window gazing outward, the twin of dysprosium lamps shines like a pair of eyes glancing back at me. It used to be all arid and lifeless and hovering. There was chicken and mice and various hideous insects whistling and killing each other, now their grass razed and home burned, while I listen to particularly repetitive and monotonous piano piece by the composer Shi Jin, whose name, though clean and graceful, sounds embarrassing in another language. I'm fond of repeating songs, not that I can enjoy it or have a deeper understanding, but to numb my feelings towards the beautiful and wait for it to be utterly differed. I finished drinking 8.5L of purified, refrigerated water within a week, and as soon as it's finished I feel sinned for having bought it, like when I came home from that fakata visa application interview in Shanghai, I decided to litter and was immediately struck by an overwhelming sense of shame - my mom and father were so concerned about the outcome of that interview - they have a reasonable fear that I fail to pass again, therefore it became the theme of that day. I did nothing to remember the past or to ruminate the present or to plan for the future, I was just pushed through a regular day of 2014 AD where I abruptly descended. It's impressive that the only novelty that appears in this phase of my life is a red, heavy mug that comes from three cartons of Chips Ahoy biscuits. I had been attached to a coverless teapot for a while, then the mug lessened my despicable self-aggrieving sensitivity.

It isn't June yet and I've already turned on the air conditioner. Last time I turned on the air conditioner my aunt visited and complained it was hot outside. Because I had to prepare for the SAT I didn't at all have an idea of how it felt like. Now it's been one year, with anguish and endless regret that the waiting is too long and tedious, I discovered that the time has suddenly passed. Although I'm listening to the same music, typing on the same keyboard, looking at the same computer screen, wearing the same pair of slippers, the situation has changed, therefore I'm changed. I fail to acknowledged how the hell I've gotten here, from without acnes to with acnes to without, from Cao Jie to Jiangnan You to Mengjia Gu to Yibing Yang to assorted females I am once interested in humping, from a stupid punk rock high school student who's doomed for a third rate college to a egocentric, inordinate anxiety disorder patient who had anxiety disorder precisely because he wants to rid of it. It all happened so fast and meaningless. I liked dreaming, and now I'm tired of it. I liked masturbating, and now I'm tired of it. Although I still do both, I'm doing them with an emotional detachment - because after reading all the novels of magic and science fiction and love story, I kind of regard my life and the world as a short-term hotel in which I check in and check out. Those dickheads in Nanjing and Suzhou are still immersed in their having becoming of businessman and politician. Parsimonious and double-sided as they always are, they're tolerated and flattered with otherwise non-existent manner and etiquette and considerateness.

Now there's an intimidating 90578 RMBs in my Alipay account - this might be the highest amount of money I will ever see - I feel rich even though most of that money is not mine. In actuality I can't even afford a decent laptop - but that never prevents me from finding excuses of not using it. I have mosquito bites and hair around private parts, and my eyes and hair are dull black - I can be killed like everyone else, and I will die one day involuntarily. People say that the future cannot be predicted. But I've foreseen the most ultimate result of my life. Everything in between is trivial and uncertain. May God bless me.

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Sleeping at around 3 - 4 o'clock in the morning seems more than a habit than an occasion. I would read novels, play games, watch movies. But ever since the insolvable money problem emerged. I've run out of books to read. Even my Planetside 2 account was banned, not to mention watching pornographies and masturbating. When Xu returned home, he told me that cars and laptops are perquisites in New Zealand; one becomes unlikely to make any friend without them - that made me nervous. I might not even have money to buy new clothes or go to the hair dressers'. I'm always reluctant to play a game without hack, the only exception be a Korea game AVA, whose sniper rifle is especially suitable for me. Because I just can't stand being such a chronicle noob. I managed to appear on the top charts; I managed to maintain a kill death ratio of more than 5. It's okay in the games to do so - I don't invest money in it. But it's not so in reality. I spent the past 2 years trying to deny the legitimacy of it, by fancying prospect, and pretending to be desperately smart. And eventually my effort is proved futile - I was rejected everywhere, and those who promised to endorse my studies are only willing to loan the money now. Recalling through all the words I so painstakingly memorized, the most pertinent to describe myself might be "pathetic" and "insubordinate". I pretend to be good at writing and claim I don't write for my readers, to cover up the fact that I deserve my own failure. There are so many "SAT"s among these paragraphs, and frankly I'm now disgusted with my own rascal attitude to be obsessed with only success - not success, but a mere exception, luck. I'm turning into someone I used to disdain. So, from now on, I won't let the word "SAT" appear any more in my blog. It's time for a new life, a life without conceit and fluke, a life to be savored with diligence and true wisdom. I haven't found those qualities in me yet, but at least I'm trying to.

5/17

For the days before, I was again immersed in playing Planetside 2 - not a game I actually like, but just a choice of regaining my sense of achievement. Everything lately has seemed to be a little wild. People, at first hopeful that there will be a Harvard graduates from their family, are beginning to complain that my failure to obtain a full financial aid package was somehow an unacceptable fault - although I was given offers from colleges like Williams and Duke without an aid package - that pretty much has a lot to say about my competence. The Jacobs University did offer me some decent grant, but my family still has to pay up to 6400 euros annually. That's part of the reason my father has to work 15 hours a day in the dish washing business - although he could easily find a much better job than the one he's currently having, by returning to his Ever-Glory corporation and become a manager like he did several years ago - he said he's tired of doing clothing industry, and is interested now in labor-heavy works like express delivery and dish washing. Although I've long got accustomed to the way people around me operate their life, the repetitiveness of their unbridled daydream often astounds me - my uncle said he's capable of making several thousands of RMBs per day. He's the chef of a 70-people state owned cafeteria, and is responsible for all the kitchen supplies - as it turns out, it's one of my uncle's another elaborate brag about himself. My grandmother, always deceptively supportive of my grand ambition, hangs up on me abruptly on the phone after I declined to go eat dinner at her place. My aunt is now actively persuading my mom to work the morning part of her job for a monthly 1250 RMB salary, so she can use the less stressful evening part to sleep and watch movies on her MP4. I suddenly understand why my siblings in Suzhou and Nanjing would discriminate against us - we have practically zero ability to grab an opportunity. Although huge wealth, some 1 billion RMB, and mansion and Cadillac cars were all readily available simply by saying yes; the 1 million at the beginning of the 1990s were lost in my uncle's gamble. What prospect, what hope do they have if chances evaded, talent squandered in dish washing and vegetable vendor business. Yet everyone all appears to have great conviction on whatever they're doing is right, and someday because of their diligence and perseverance, they'll be recognized as successful - no one can become successful by raising cocks and ducks at the backyard at their country house, without proper management, with bare hands. And I, who's been intending to escape all of these clusterfuck, and learning real knowledge of how to make good use of the social resources, am secretly and blatantly cursed of being ignorant.

When I talk to friends on the internet, I told them that my father is a successful business man who runs across the globe for meetings and negotiations, seldom stays at home and never questions what his son is doing. But in fact, he runs across the Wuxi city for cheap, remnant vegetables and sell them to restaurants for twice the price, always stays at home in the same bedroom he shared with my grandma, and deems me some sort of superior being and therefore possesses the innate tendency to look down upon him - yes, I am doing that precisely because he thinks everyone who has a better orientation of life is snobbish - "It's all the communists' fault, and people are giving me money I don't deserve (for helping them start multi-million companies)." My father always says this to console me, and his speech sounds so genuine, and more importantly, he always consider himself a successful person, in every aspect, I have naively believed him. That's where all the nonsense arises. Now, I'm once again, tired of maintaining the laughable balance between two mutually-suspicious group, feigning the amicability that's was actually never there, and pretending to care about their repellent ideology, I'm going to get the fuck out of here, Germany, Singapore, whatever, and when I'm out, I'll just work the ass off for my own life and future.

5/7

I really don't know what my attitudes should be, towards the Jacobs University - a place that has been struggling with financial difficulties and name recognition since its founding in 1999. Frankly, the moment I received the admission letter at the first week of February, my excitement was not about the news itself, but after years' of anonymity, I finally had a definitive, third-party answer to affirm that I'm, indeed, worthy of serious consideration. And then there's the consecutive rejections kindly articulated I obtained from the United States. Up till this moment, after a multitude of self-consolation, ego boost, prospect for the wonderful life in German and Europe, I still haven't yet really accepted the fact that all of those I adored or dismissed have closed their doors for me. My sister presumed it's my arrogance, and failure to write school-specific personal essays that caused the consequence; my parents know nothing and deem Germany a superior choice to America; my brother, who hasn't sent me anything in months, remains reticent to this day to avoid the awkwardness of having participated in my grand declaration of a future in Harvard, or at least in Princeton. Now it all feels like a joke as preposterous as Gavin Wince's Existics. I've heard people saying, in the Japanese anime Gintama, which I picked up to learn to deal with life after disillusion, that those who are successful in the video games are almost always appear vice versa in reality - as a result, I became obsessed with purchasing iOS apps and a game called 8 Ball Pool - I need to retrieve my confidence. But still, my impatience in playing and conceit in gambling made my winning rate lower than 50%, and I searched on the SiNfuL iPhone forum desperately for a hack. That's the paradigm of my current life, and I'm so naive that I insist no matter what the degree to which I'd denigrated, I still want my future to remember the past, for what purpose I don't know. Shame? Not likely. Reminiscence? Even less so. I wrote blogs and tweets and even attempted to record a voice message yesterday - actually this morning because I'm now again sleeping in the morning for the silence and the solitude of not disappointing at night. It turned out I loathed the way I sound as much as I hated the way I look in photographs. I recorded a total of 5 clips and deleted them all. Worthless, burlesque, self-appointed, these are the words I use to describe the things I do.

It's really sunny now. I just pulled the curtain to the side. I remember in the first year of high school, during the break between two classes, I would like to sing "enjoy the sun, enjoy the sunshine". My classmates resting on the steps ahead me would follow "enjoy the sun, enjoy the sunshine". And together we repeated it a thousand times. The study was all about exams and preparation for exams, and it is one of the ploy I picked up to make the process seem a bit more sarcastically alive. However, the simplicity and the willpower of being entitled to genuinely smile have been lost in me. I prefer the whiteness of skin to the enjoyment of sun. To my amaze, I did not write after masturbation or intend to masturbate after writing, and I'm having so much on page. With hideous grammatical and even more hideous auto-correct spelling error that don't exist because I don't go back to it after I've finished, a bizarre sense of settlement arises. The crane rotating, the grandma who takes me to the wonton shop inexplicably expensive out in the street, the pervert father, and the jailbroken iOS 7.0.6 with various tweaks installed, and the combination of their very existence seems all so gracious and overwhelming, and the entropy slightly increased its speed of rising as a whirlwind thrilled through the mechanical mind of my brain. "Billie, you're being underestimated." And I wonder if it's better off being underestimated by myself than by a school or anyone else. As it is destined for a beauty to get old, my wisdom has ossified in the course of these months. I got rife with unjust greed and endless regret; I've begun to question my faith without the poignancy of reason, and patronize not only the minds of the evil but also those of the inferior. I constantly chastised my being with rootless and theoretical snobbishness.

I had an idea, possibly profitable but more likely to have been already thought of, and I've forgotten it. Oh, now I've recalled - shutting down the hearing sense with a switch in auditory nerve, ideally with a headband. And Google says somebody has already looked into it. Just like the idea of 3D rotational product preview, which was commercialized long ago, these strange visions always give me the hope of leading to a vast wealth. And often at this time, I get dumbfounded by the collective masterpiece of human intellect.
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There's a saying that the real estate market is shrinking, and people like Li Ka-shing and the owner of the apartment at the third floor are seeking to cash in their asset. I've never known what an economy slowdown would feel like. Ever since I was born, China has been growing at a steady annual rate of 8-10%. However, for now, the structure of social class, the appearance of the city, and the extent to which democracy is authentic are close to being determined. And my life has barely started. Although I'm young and sexually and materially motivated, my life has barely started. And if someone intrudes my room to learn what vitality and disorientation a young person's way of life might bring, he'll definitely see the exact opposite. I'm still, like I was six months earlier, sitting in front of the computer screen and periodically refresh the NUS portal for good or bad news in the college application, while the teapot whose cover was broken when I was six and the bottles of chili and pepper powder standing in juxtaposition, and the Nike+ Fuelband I purchased at my uncle's farm three months ago have all remained in the same radius of 5 meters for as long as they've existed to me. The only thing from which I glance at the flowing of time is the construction site whose progress has accelerated - now I can see bunches of steel bars and red, floor-like material that would function as someone else's ceiling in the future, and weeks ago they were demolishing the frame they've probably, wrongfully built.

There was a draft I wrote early this morning in my iPhone but now I couldn't find it - it was about my queer denunciation of the need of having sex, and the act of continuing despite the obvious redundancy. I was always unusually sexist after masturbation, thinking the female structure pathetic and dilapidated, and the hole ostentatiously grown. But it was only because my inability to contain my own animalistic personality that I blame everything on the female. Although I understand my existence is predicated upon having sexual intercourse, my blatant refusal to do the same as my parents have done is to demonstrate my self-contrived superiority over the rest of human being, while at the same time depending my vital sign on the pumping of my heart and the boo-hoo of my urination.

I got rid of the Facebook vanity URL after transferring the username to a Page. It's literally the most valuable thing I've done today. And I updated the avatars across all my social media sites. But beyond that, the chitchat exchanged between me and Gao and Yuzi is totally unimaginative.

I don't know when this would end - it'll be so heartwarming if my trip to Germany and Singapore will bring me some content. Although the interest rate of the tuition postponement at the German university is 7.75% and the retribution to this investment is ever so uncertain, I'm still eagerly waiting, like my sister waiting for her marriage and my brother waiting for a promotion that would entitle him to work in an office.
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I haven't felt thirst in years, I mean it literally because I always fail to relate to those moment when I'm thirsty, or hungry, or sick, or in need of anything. Those moments are only true when they happened, while other, less conspicuous ones, bore me, therefore, impress me. "I'll be eternal because I'll be remembered - I did all the work at the restaurant, though closing down, without asking for extra money, and life is all about being remembered." Said my father sitting on the chair, reversed. But the cooling down of planets and stars not only carries off the livings that cover it, but also the spiritual convictions that are once firmly believed. What is the process of life? I strive for the pursuit of success and the fulfillment of happiness, I yearn for the shadowy landscape, with roads covered with thick layer of leaves that are never walked, in the books so restlessly published, and at the meantime I demand cash, vehicle and a roof above me. Those are the grand stillness I stuff into my soul for consolation - things durable because they seem so, entertainment in the fictional world for it surprises, and settlement in the reality for it sustains, like the office people returning home from work at an evening subway, obsessed with their cellphone because the people around looking at the phone screens are so entirely despicable.

We see life at its most brutal and complex, and we simplify it with stories told by other people - equally brutal, equally complex, but alien. Life still has to move on - it might be the most universal and adamant belief in the world. Just look over there - the kids are walking to their school; the staffs are walking to their company; and the elders are walking to their park…